


I Wish It Was Me

by zora (nico_neo)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, it's a mess and idk what to tag to not spoil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nico_neo/pseuds/zora
Summary: Two souls tied by the universe.They meet, but one of them will never know.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18
Collections: Bonk Secret Santa





	I Wish It Was Me

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to @kenma_loves on twitter, hope you like it!

It’s common knowledge, you don’t learn that in school. Everyone has it, that’s how society works now, that’s how society has decided to outrule the universe. Or is it the universe that whispered it to the society? After all, the universe is what rules everything, right?

It doesn’t change the fact that Keiji can’t help but think that the society and the universe are both beautiful bitches. 

Soulmates. A beautiful concept, he thinks. He can see the appeal of being tied, bonded to someone forever because the universe  _ knows _ you two are perfect for each other. Two perfect creations, binded for the rest of times. He’s quite fond of this idea, if he has to be honest. But on the other hand…

“No,” he says to Konoha, who’s sipping on his cup of coffee in front of him, and patiently waiting for Akaashi to answer him. He’s not even surprised his friends spent five minutes lost in thought before uttering a single onomatopoeia. “I can’t keep the chip.”

Konoha raises an eyebrow, questioningly. “So, you’re telling me,” he points to Akaashi. “that you’re willing to voluntarily throw away every dreams and fantasies you had about finally meeting your soulmate because you don’t have  _ time _ ?” Konoha puts his cup down and raises his arms in the air like he was some drama actor. “What the fuck Akaashi?!”

“Listen, Konoha-san, I just,” Keiji rubs his temples with his thumbs, stiffing a yawn. “Yes I  _ want  _ it, I do. But… I just have  _ so much _ to do. I can’t even have a proper lifestyle both you and I know that, I barely manage to control the last bits of everything that is happening and you know how --”

“— Hey, Akaashi,” Konoha cuts him, gently, by taking hold of his wrists in his hands, still warm from holding his cup. “Breathe, it’s okay, I know. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you anxious, just take a deep breath.”

Keiji does so, gulping down the knot he hadn’t noticed grew in his throat. 

“I really want to,” he croaks out. “But if I ever meet them it’ll just… shamble everything and I don’t think I’m ready for that. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.” he confesses.

Akinori hums but doesn’t speak further. He releases his wrist when he decides Akaashi is calm again enough to not need a physical anchor anymore and slumps against the back of his seat. Keiji looks into his dark coffee, a silent glare battle with his reflection in the beverage. 

When you’re born, upon the first days of your life, you get a chip implanted in your arm. That’s your soulmate identifying mark. You can’t see it, but you know it’s here. Your soulmate has one too, a twin chip, identical to the one under your skin. When you meet your soulmate, the chip activates and releases a red light. A small red dot adorning the skin of your arm. Keiji has heard it beeps, too, but he doesn’t know if it’s true. Maybe it depends on the person. 

“Are you going to get it removed, then?” Konoha asks.

The thing, with a simple chip, is that you can easily remove it. Nowadays, there’s more and more underground shops, offering chip removals. It’s like tattoo fixers, but for soulmate chips. A simple cut into your skin with specialized tools, and bye bye. It’s gone.

Keiji looks up at his friend, and nods. Konoha sighs.

“I can’t force you to think otherwise, anyway,” he says and grabs a napkin. “Do you have a pen with you?”

He always does. Konoha grabs it and immediately starts scribbling on the white napkin. He hands both objects back to Keiji. With his index finger, he points to what he just wrote.

“When you’re ready,” he says, smiling at Akaashi. “Go there. Washio knows a guy who knows one of the guys working there. They’re nice people. The painter is apparently quite famous, well, that’s what Komori - the guys Washio knows - said.”

Keiji whispers his thanks and glances at his friend’s messy handwriting.

_ Miya Art & Antiquities/Tattoo Shop _

_ Ebisu, Shibuya, Tokyo 150-0013 _

Keiji doesn’t really know what he expects when he pushes the door of the shop open. Maybe something more… underground-ish. Instead,  _ Miya Art & Antiquities/Tattoo Shop _ is rounding the corner of a street in Ebisu, with what looks like a nice bakery on one side and a flower shop on the other. The storefront is back, which is a perfect harmony with the stone wall it’s settled in. Keiji pushes the door open.

As the name of the shop indicates, the room Keiji enters in - the main room - is filled with old furniture and knick-knacks. But, it’s not overwhelming, everything is organized and leaves enough space to wander through all the items. Keiji imagines there must be other rooms with more furnitures in it, the main area was only a sneak peek. The floor is an old floorboard and Keiji thinks it fits the whole mood of the shop. There’s slow and not too loud jazz music coming out of speakers. Keiji imagined a darker atmosphere for the whole shop, at first, but instead it feels warm and welcoming. 

He walks up to the counter and admires the three paintings hanging there. It’s a lot of vibrant colors, but Keiji, even without really knowing what it represents, can feel the vivid and strong emotions coming out of the paintings. Whether it was only abstract patterns or characters. Keiji turns his head towards the further end of the shop, there’s an arch, opening to another room and Keiji could see a man there, surrounded by paintings. The man had long dark brown hair, tied up in a man bun, putting the attention on the earrings on his left ear. There are still free strands cascading on his face in two distinct bangs. His sandy green eyes are focused on the canva in front of him, one of his hands is holding a paintbrush and the other a color palette. He has smudges of orange and red paint on his face, but Keiji’s sure the man doesn’t care. When he takes a step back to admire the canva, keeping a concentrated face, Keiji has a plain view on his outfit. The man is wearing a paint stained black pants skirt and a sleeveless black shirt, the armholes are pretty large and Keiji notices a scar rounding the side of the other man’s chest. 

When Keiji takes his eyes away, another man enters the main area, directly from behind the counter. The man smiles at him.

“Welcome,” he greets him with a charming smile. “What can I help you with?”

Keiji takes a breath and looks into the steel, silver color of the man’s eyes. 

“I’m here to get my chip removed.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees the painter turning his head to look at them. 

The man at the counter - Osamu, Keiji learned - leads him downstairs. The mood immediately changes from the one he got used to while upstairs. The basement looks more… hostile, somehow. The colors are colder, and the music isn’t the same, closer to punk/rock than jazz. It’s a completely different world.

Osamu leads him into a room, where a black leather adjustable chair. There’s ink bottles lined up in a showcase and Keiji spots tattoo equipment at the other corner of the room.

“You can sit there while I grab what I need.” Osamu says.

Keiji only nods and sits silently, already pulling the sleeve of his sweater up to get done with it. He turns his head to look at the other man. Keiji notices that Osamu seems to have stopped moving at all, stopped in front of one of the drawers. He’s looking at something Keiji can’t see, and his shoulders are tense. 

Before Keiji can ask what’s wrong, Osamu shakes his head, clears his throat and rummages through his steel drawers. He must be used to this, not an ounce of hesitation — well… not anymore at least — in his steps and demeanour. Again, Keiji mentally slaps himself, it’s literally his  _ job _ .

Osamu sits on the rolling stool once he has put everything on the plate next to him. Keiji sees a small scalpel, a pliers, gauzes and disinfectant. There’s also a syringe Osamu is tapping on before settling it down again. He wraps plastic wrap around the armrest of the seat and puts on black rubber gloves. He also puts on an old pair of glasses, with a black rim and Keiji wonders what the glasses will change to anything until Osamu clips surgical magnifying glasses to it. Oh.

“‘Kay, so,” Osamu eventually says to him. His voice is wavering a little. “First of all, before anything,” he says pointedly at Akaashi. But he isn’t looking at him. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once it’s out, I can’t put it back, it’s over. No more chances to meet your soulmate.”

“I know,” Keiji nods.

Osamu puts his hands on the junction between his hips and his thigh. He’s finally looking at him. Keiji can’t decipher his silver steel eyes. “Can I ask you why you want it removed?”

Ah, Keiji should have seen it coming. Safety purposes, he guesses.

“I don’t think I’m ready for a soulmate.”

He sees Osamu raise an eyebrow as he crosses his arms over his chest. He looked down.

“Aren’t we all not ready until it happens?” he asks. So softly Keiji barely missed it.

“No I mean…” Keiji chuckles. “I’m not ready. And I don’t think I’ll ever be. It’s… too much of a sudden change and I don’t think I can take it.”

Osamu hums.

“No regrets?” he asks again, taking the syringe from the plate.

Regrets. Maybe Akaashi will have regrets. After all, it’s something he’s waited for since he was born. He liked the idea and wasn’t opposed to it. He’ll probably have regrets, he’s throwing his chance away to meet the universe’s standards of the person who’s supposed to be perfect for him. Would this person really be perfect for him, though? There’s always a chance she wouldn’t. But, on the other hand, getting the chip out means…

“No regrets.” he confirms to Osamu.

It’s better that way. He’s not made for this.

“Alright,” there’s an underlying sense of finality in Osamu’s tone. “I’ll inject this product, it’ll short-circuit the chip electronics, making it obsolete, and then I’ll get it out,” explains Osamu. “Sounds doable to you?”

Keiji nods, and Osamu gets to work.

  
  


Not even ten minutes later, Osamu sprays a gauze with disinfectant and wraps it around the cut he inflicted on Keiji’s arms. The chip is resting on a plate on the metal tray, surrounded by droplets of blood. Obsolete.

“There, all done.” Osamu smiles, albeit barely noticeable. “Do we go back upstairs or do you need a moment?”

Keiji looks one last time at the bloody chip and shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.”

Osamu claps his hands on his lap and gets rid of both gloves and glasses before leading the way out.

“Disinfect the wound every morning and evening,” explains Osamu, entering the main area once again. “It’ll close and heal by itself, as time passes.”

“Alright.”

The man he has seen painting earlier - and who’s he’s heard Osamu referring to as Rin - is now behind the counter, smiling at Osamu as the other slides behind it. At the same time, Keiji hears the door opening as well as a loud voice reaching his ears. Naturally, he turns to the source of the noise. Two men, one with spiky black and white hair and the other with messy black hair and a clean light beard framing his jawline and mouth. Akaashi feels unsettled.

“Ah, Bokkun!” Osamu cheerily welcomes. 

The white haired man’s face enlightens. He waves at them. The unsettling feeling in Keiji’s stomach doesn’t falter.

“Myaa-Sam!” he cheerfully greets back. The other man behind him grins at the two others as well, though a bit more reserved.

Keiji feels the eyes of the painter on him, scanning, knowing. Keiji swallows, smiles at them both and bids his goodbyes. 

Bokuto looks at the dark haired man leaving the shop curiously. Kuroo’s hand rests against his back, spreading warmth through his hoodie. He feels another warmth, but this time, coming from his arm. When he glances down, there’s a red dot against his skin.

Oh. 

He apparently utters it out loud, because he feels Tetsurou tenses next to him. And the stares of both Osamu and Rintarou, further away. 

Koutarou turns to look at the man behind him. He can’t see his eyes because Tetsurou has them casted down, his amber pupils hidden by his prettily long eyelashes. 

“Hey,” Bokuto calls him. Kuroo slowly looks back up and Koutarou silently admires the way he styled his beard. Maybe he’ll ask him to keep it even after November. He silently pouts at not being able to grow more than three tiny hairs on his chin. “Remember what I told you? I won’t let whatever entities out there dictate my life.”

Kuroo’s smile blooms back, though smaller than his usual ones. “I know,” he whispers. “But… doesn’t it make you —“

“He made his choice, hasn’t he? He went here after all,” Koutarou shrugs. “And I made my choice too, have made it for a while. I won’t change it. Never. I want to be the one choosing who I love.” he smiles at Tetsurou, who chuckles in approval. 

“Alright.”

“Kuroo-san,” calls Osamu, mentioning the stairs with his head. “You two can go down, I’ll be here in a minute.”

“Okay! Let’s get this done!” Bokuto says happily, bouncing down the stairs toward the basement shop. 

When the two men are gone, Rintarou turns to look at Osamu, with a mix of knowledge and sympathy swimming on his face. He eyes him pointedly.

“You okay? I can do it if you want a break.”

Osamu chuckles, humorlessly and casts a look at the red dot against his skin. 

“Nah, it’s fine, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Rintarou doesn’t say anything else. He rubs his thumb over Osamu’s cheek, leaving an orange stain of paint here and passes by him to head downstairs. Osamu doesn’t react. 

He just removed  _ his _ soulmate’s chip.

  
  


When the fresh air of the outside world hits his face, Keiji realizes. The spiky haired guy...


End file.
